Sacrificial Wrongs
by Sedorna
Summary: Kit and Baloo are hired to deliver a valuable package to a far-away land. What, however, are they really delivering?
1. Chapter 1

**Talespin: Sacrificial Wrongs**

**by: Marie Kelly**

**Chapter 1**

_The characters and settings from TaleSpin belong to the __Walt Disney Company__ and are used without permission. The characters and settings not from TaleSpin belong to me and are used with permission. _

The moon hung low in the sky, a waning blood orange crescent that was cold…wan…dead. It was all the light provided to the land, save some paltry man-made flames, and it hung atop the volcano, which intermittently spat forth plumes of black smoke, obscuring the light.

The maiden, a lioness, lifted her arm above her head, fingers outstretched, letting the water drip down her arm. She could hear them coming. In fact, she was somewhat surprised that the monks had not come earlier. She would not leave the springs, she decided.

There were ten monks, all lions with shorn heads, clothed in pure white robes. Their cedar shoes had a thick cork sole, to prevent the robes from getting dirty. The monks placed thick purple sheets upon the ground.

The head monk pulled his robe over his eyes and stepped forwards, hands clasped deferentially. In a practiced move, the other monks placed their foreheads upon the ground, arms stretched out in front of them.

"Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First," began the head monk, and other monks echoed the title. He bowed several times, his forehead touching the ground. "I would not dream of questioning you—"

"Then don't!" snapped Wurdyne. "Or, if you will, just do it without that pathetic crap you just spouted out."

The monk bit his lip and swallowed his pride. "The moon is nearly new. Perhaps you shouldn't be taking a bath?"

Wurdyne slowly raised her left brow. "I am not 'taking a bath', as you so quaintly put it," she explained, her voice low and soft. "This is a ceremonial cleansing."

The head monk bowed several more times, and then spoke again. "Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First, forgive my impertinence, but I am unaware of any such ceremonial cleansing that—"

"Just because you are ignorant," snapped Wurdyne, "does not mean that it does not exist!"

"The Outsider has to be brought here before the new moon or else we're all doomed! You're taking this far too lightly!"

"Do not raise your voice to _me_," growled Wurdyne, her translucent green yellow eyes flashing. "I have never once failed in my mission, and I have no intention of starting now. If you absolutely must bother somebody, bother my sister. After all, I am only going to bring the Outsider here. She's the one who has to return him later."

The head monk clenched his fists and bowed. "Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First, your words do ring true. The Lady Shelorna Most High of the Second is in need of our assistance. We shall leave you now. Please, keep your word and do not neglect your duty." With that, the monks left.

Wurdyne sighed heavily, inhaling thick, sulfuric air. Thank goodness. It was quite a relief that they were gone. The monks had a tendency to be far too nosy. Had they decided to follow her, the chances of her being successful at her own mission would have been severely limited. The lioness stood up and exited the hot spring.

She walked purposefully towards her dwelling, a small hut with a blackened, thatched roof. A sheet of undyed sheepskin was stretched across the entrance. As the one who would bring the Outsider to the land, she was not permitted to live otherwise. Tradition held that only an austere life would ensure that she did not stray from her duties. Wurdyne smirked as she pushed the curtain aside and entered.

Smokeless embers filled a pit in the center of the room. Wurdyne prodded them with a stick, causing them to flame up. The fire might be magical and smokeless, but it still needed to be tended. She hoisted the Fire Stick in her hand, inspecting it. The center was cedar, around which was entwined maple and ebony. It would be sufficient, Wurdyne smiled. She donned the proper outfit, a simple powder blue dress, and, carrying the Fire Stick, left for the Outside.

* * *

Mad Dog sighed loudly, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm bored," he whined.

Dumptruck straightened his bellhop's hat. Both he and Mad Dog were clothed in the uniforms of employees at the Bearaton Hotel, which had been stolen from two bellhops who were left bound, gagged, and dumped in a closet. "But Mad Dog," he explained patiently. "Der captain said ve had to—"

"I know!" snapped Mad Dog, "but I'm still bored. I'm itchy and tired and bored. I've been sitting her for hours."

Dumptruck shook his head. "Mad Dog, it's only twelve thirty. Ve got here at noon. It's not that long." His ability to tell time was a matter of great pride to the large, gray canine.

"Yeah, well, it seems a lot longer than that," Mad Dog reluctantly conceded.

"Excuse me, but could you—"

"Can't you see the suitcases here?" Mad Dog snapped.

"Yes." Dumptruck was surprisingly polite. "Ve're waiting for somebody, so you'll have to get somebody else to help you."

The lioness who had spoken raised her left brow. "Actually," she explained dulcetly, gesturing to the pay phones behind the two pirates, "I would like to make a phone call. Perhaps you'd like to move?" She smiled patiently.

"No," answered Mad Dog. "Use the front desk."

The lioness's translucent green yellow eyes flashed. "I would like to make a phone call," she hissed, "and I would like to like to make it right here. Is that perfectly clear?" She glared at the two men, who glanced at each other and shuffled, albeit reluctantly, to the side.

"Thank you," the lioness smiled sweetly. "I appreciate your moving." She picked up the phone and dialed.

"What do you think that is?" whispered Mad Dog, gesturing to the wrapped package the lioness carried.

"Hello, my name is Diana Lyden," said the lioness, as Dumptruck replied, "a stick."

"A stick?" Mad Dog scoffed. "Are you an idiot?"

"Vell, it looks like a stick," Dumptruck whispered defensively.

"Vell, it looks like a stick," Mad Dog mimicked. "What kind of idiot carries a stick around?"

Dumptruck raised his voice. Mad Dog always bothered him. "I don't know, vhat kind of idiot carries a stick around?"

People stared at them, and Mad Dog shushedDumptruck with a, "you moron, you want people to stare at us?"

"It's worth half a million dollars, and I'll pay you half that plus expenses to ship it." The lioness's voice was low and soft, but the pirates couldn't help but overhear. They got quite silent, listening carefully.

"Yes," the lioness nodded. "I can be at Higher for Hire in an hour. Directions? Yes, that is a good idea. No, I wouldn't like to get lost." She repeated the directions out loud. "Well, it will be wonderful to do business with you, Miss Cunningham. Thank you. Goodbye." The lioness hung up the phone and left, carrying the wrapped package with her.

"Did you hear that?" Mad Dog whispered excitedly. "That stick she's carrying is worth half a million dollars. We have to take it!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully.

"No, der captain said ve were to wait for the Princess of Welthonia so ve could kidnap her," protested Dumptruck.

"I don't see the princess anywhere, do you?" sneered Mad Dog. "I'm tired of waiting. You kidnap her. I'll take the stick."

"Hey!" Dumptruck knew that was quite unfair. "Vhy don't you kidnap the princess and I'll take thestick?"

"Because I'm more bored than you are!"

"Are not!" Dumptruck retorted.

"Am—" Mad Dog decided to try flattery. "Oh, you'd be so much better than me at kidnapping. I really couldn't possibly do it. Please, kidnap Princess Mora Dolores?" His voice was thick, syrupy, and made him want to retch. Still, it did the trick as Dumptruck agreed to wait for the princess while Mad Dog followed the lioness.

* * *

The large gray bear, dressed in a yellow shirt and pilot's cap, stood over his petite boss and groused.

"Come on, Beckers, you promised I could have the day off."

"This is a business, Baloo, and a business exists to make money. Miss Lyden'll make us a lot of money." Rebecca Cunningham replied, straightening the sheet of papers on her desk. She cast a critical eye around the room. There was so much…junk…around the place. "And I just bought a some file drawers," she mumbled under her breath. "How come they're all full already?" She picked up a feather duster and began dusting.

"I was gonna go to Louie's."

"I'm sure you'll go anyway." Rebecca dusted Baloo's face, and Baloo sneezed. Noticing what she had done, Rebecca chuckled and relaxed. "Sorry," she apologized. "I know I promised, but business is slow, and we're almost in the red. Miss Lyden's job will definitely save some worrying about the bills. Plus," she added, "You just might get a raise."

Baloo ignored his boss's last remark. "Who spends two hundred fifty thousand on one lousy shipment?"

"Rich people spend two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on one lousy shipment. And if they spend that much on one shipment, they're likely to spend that much on more shipments, so it's important that we make Miss Diana Lyden happy."

"In truth, I shall pay two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus expenses," a deep, rich voice with the slightest trace of an accent said.

Guiltily, Rebecca spun towards the voice. A tall, regal lioness, wearing a fetchingly stylish powder blue dress, with blonde hair pulled back into a chignon, and translucent green yellow eyes stood in the doorway of Higher for Hire, clutching cloth-wrapped, cylindrical object.

"Miss Lyden!" Rebecca blurted. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that. You're not just a rich person," she babbled, apologizing, and inwardly kicked herself. How could she have been so rude? She continued apologizing, leading the lioness towards the chair.

"Miss Cunningham," Wurdyne gently placed her hand over Rebecca's own. She smiled warmly. "Please, don't worry about it. I chose Higher for Higher for a reason." She sat down, and turned to speak to Baloo. "You do have a point, sir. Spending such a large amount of money on one shipment is rather ridiculous."

"Hey," Baloo countered. "I never said it was ridiculous!"

"Perhaps, you thought so, correct? I'd think the same, myself. It is ridiculous to spend such an amount of money on one shipment," Wurdyne agreed. "This, however, is a most important item." She unwrapped the package, letting the wrappings fall to the floor.

Rebecca let loose an involuntary gasp. The stick was absolutely beautiful, and smelled splendid, sweet and rich. She involuntarily reached out to touch it. Baloo, however, wasn't quite so impressed. "It's just a stick. It doesn't look like it's that valuable."

"This," Wurdyne explained, "is the walking stick of the kings of Aidira."

"If it belongs to kings, what are you doing with it?"

"Baloo!"

"I run a curio shop, and I came across it," stated Wurdyne. "I was quite excited as I am from Aidira, and so the traditional walking stick of our royalty was quite the find, especially since it has been missing for three hundred years, ever since the last king was deposed. My sister is the curator of the Aidira's museum, and so I decided it would be best to have you send this to her. And, of course, Higher for Hire was clearly the best choice."

Rebecca smiled, pleased. "Well, we always strive to please our customers, and I'm glad our reputation is so good."

"Well, I need an excellent pilot, and the choices came down to either Baloo or one of Shere Khan's. I would prefer not get involved with Mr. Khan unless absolutely necessary. Since you, too, are a small business owner, I hope you can understand my feelings on the matter."

Rebecca nodded. Shere Khan was, at times, simply too impressive.

"Besides," Wurdyne added, "Baloo really is a far superior pilot to any of Khan's men, and the trip may be a dangerous one. Aidira is a mountainous land to the west of Aridia."

"Hey, hold on sister!" Baloo scoffed. "I've been to Aridia, and there ain't no mountains there."

"You can't actually see the mountains from Aridia," explained Wurdyne. "However, Aridia is the closest country to Aidira. Aidira has been self-sufficient for thousands of years, since there are sandstorms, which can come up at any time. They're completely random, and enough to cut off Aidira from the rest of civilization, except for a few minor exceptions, such as myself. Of course, modern radio and telephone communications have allowed me to keep in contact with my dear sister. Now," she became serious. "There are some rules which absolutely must be kept to, or you will not get the job."

Wurdyne began counting off her demands. "One: The item must be delivered to my sister, Cira, in person. We're identical twins, so she looks exactly like me. She is, however, somewhat absentminded at times. Two: Since it is such a valuable item, I would have to insist that there be two people to deliver it."

Rebecca frowned. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make it. I've got to take care of Molly and run the business—"

"Oh, dear," Wurdyne pursed her lips. "It is utterly important that two people deliver this. Are you certain you can not make it?"

Rebecca paused. When she finally spoke, her words were full of regret. "I am so sorry, but I can't leave Molly alone. Plus, bills are due and if I don't get to the bank they'll foreclose on the loan."

Calmly, Wurdyne stood up. "I am terribly sorry to hear that, Miss Cunningham. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. " She slowly turned and walked towards the door.

"WAIT!" Rebecca stood up quickly, her hands clutching the edge of the desk. She wouldn't…she couldn't…let this one go. "Miss Lyden, please don't leave. I'm certain we can work something out. It's not necessary to go to Shere Khan, is it? I'm sure we can work something out," she repeated, desperately. She could not let such a lucrative deal slip through her fingers.

Wurdyne clicked her tongue. "I am sorry Miss Cunningham, but I simply won't budge on this matter. There must be two people delivering the package. Perhaps, however, there is somebody aside from yourself who might be able to do it?" Wurdyne let her voice trail off.

Rebecca's eyes lit up, and Baloo frowned. He knew that look. "Yes!" she said, happily. "We do have somebody! Kit can do it."

"Kit?" Wurdyne noticed Baloo glaring at Rebecca. She feigned confusion. "Who is she?"

"He," Baloo said, quickly before Rebecca could speak. "Kit Cloudkicker. He's my navigator. And he's too busy to do this. So, sorry, lady. Looks like you'll have to go to Shere Khan's."

"Baloo!" Rebecca cried. She turned towards Wurdyne and smiled, apologetically. "Please excuse us for a moment, Miss Lyden."

"Of course." Wurdyne clasped her hands in front of her and nodded gracefully. "Take all the time you need, Miss Cunningham."

"Baloo," Rebecca smiled a thin, pursed lip smile. "_You _will deliver the package. _Kit _will deliver the package. _I_ own the Sea Duck," she added, somewhat threateningly.

Instinctively, Baloo's hands balled into fists. Rebecca could be so annoyingly stubborn where money was involved. One lousy day off. Was that too much to ask for? Noticing Diana Lyden's eyes upon him, Baloo unclenched his fists. "I'll do it," he conceded.

"Good!" Rebecca clapped her hands together, cheerful. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it? Now to tell Miss Lyden the good news."

"I'll do it," Baloo repeated. "However, Kit can't. He's not here today, remember? He went out with his friends."

Neither Baloo nor Rebecca noticed Wurdyne's eyes widen slightly and a faint shadow cross her expressions, turning her quickly, and most transiently, into something wild, cruel, and hungry. It appeared, Wurdyne decided, that she would have to change her plans. "Miss Cunningham?" she spoke, warm and polite.

"I'm sorry Miss Lyden," Rebecca apologized. She forced out her words, painfully. "I'm afraid we'll have to decline. Higher for Hire can't—" her voice stuck. "We can't comply with your request. We're sorry." She elbowed Baloo, who reluctantly apologized.

Wurdyne shook her head sadly. "That is quite all right, Miss Cunningham. I am afraid that I am the one who wasted your time. However," she lowered her voice, "may I offer a bit of advice?"

Rebecca nodded.

"This Kit person. Now that I think about it, he is the Kit Cloudkicker I've read about upon occasion in newspaper articles? I think they call him a…" Wurdyne bit her lip thoughtfully, "twelve year old aviation genius?"

"That's him," Baloo said proudly.

"Don't be mad at him. I would simply hate it if I were responsible for any unjust anger. He's still a child, and should have plenty of time to play with his wonderful friends."

"Wonderful," Baloo scoffed. "If Ernie's wonderful than I'm the Queen of Sheba. Don't know how Kit stands that kid."

"Baloo!" Rebecca scolded, and Wurdyne made a note to remember that name, Ernie.

"Good day, Miss Cunningham," Wurdyne said goodbye. "I fully intend to use Higher for Hire for other shipments that aren't quite as stringent as—"

"I'm back." Kit opened the door and walked in.

"Kit!" Baloo's face dropped. That kid's timing was completely off. "What happened to Ernie's?" He could practically feel Rebecca's bright, excited smile.

"Oh, that," replied Kit, shrugging. "His grandmother came to visit for the week. He tried to sneak out, but his mom caught him and sent me home."

"Since you're here, Kit," said Rebecca, "There's a little job that I'd like you and Baloo to go on if you wouldn't mind." Despite her phrasing, her tone made it clear that it was not a request.

"Sure," Kit replied easily, and Baloo groaned.

Wurdyne permitted herself a small sigh of relief and returned to her seat. The lioness smoothed her hair and said, "Now, my dear sister, bless her heart, has decided to go on vacation starting the day after tomorrow, and so it must be delivered within twenty-four hours. This means that you'll have to leave within one hour and there can be no dawdling until it has been delivered. However, if you would like to visit Aridia afterwards, I will be happy to pay for it, as expenses."

Baloo smiled. "Ya know, lady, you're not half bad." Rebecca, however, pursed her lips. "You shouldn't encourage such behavior. It'll cost so much money."

"I will pay the expenses," Wurdyne repeated. "Certainly, ten thousand dollars will be enough to cover everything, including gas. So you shall receive a total of two hundred sixty thousand dollars, with one hundred thirty of it payable immediately. My sister will hand over the balance upon delivery. I shall inform her that delivery must be by both Kit Cloudkicker and Baloo only. Is that acceptable to you?" Rebecca nodded, and Wurdyne wrote out a check for the aforementioned amount. She wrapped up the stick, thanked Baloo and Rebecca, left Higher for Hire, and vanished.

* * *

The pirate captain, Don Karnage, leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So, Mad Dog, my pathetic plunderer, it would appear that Baloo is delivering some most important cargo, yes-no?" 

"Yes, cap'n," Mad Dog groveled, as Gibber, a short, stocky pirate, came over and whispered into Karnage's ear.

"Princess who? What are you—oh, you mean the silly goose type person who sits in the poison ivy and has the nasty red itch all over her body?" Karnage waved his hand dismissively. "Who cares about her?" He certainly did not, not since he discovered, to his immense disappointment, that the princess came from a dirt-poor kingdom and was in Cape Suzette to beg a loan for her country. Somebody like that could not possibly benefit him.

"No," he decided, "Baloo's cargo is far more interesting."

"So, we're gonna steal it, huh, cap'n, huh, huh?" Hacksaw, a scruffy yellow canine leaned forward, his body fairly twitching and his eyes darting about.

"No, you idiot!" Karnage backhanded Hacksaw. "Now, please be kind enough to sit over there and do not interrupt your stupendous capitan while he is talking. Normally I would steal it from that miserable bear, I have decided that I will let him deliver it instead!" Karnage paused, waiting for his men to ooh and ah over his plan, and perhaps ask for more details. When he was met with only silence, he cleared his throat and resumed speaking.

"If I am letting Baloo deliver it, he will get one hundred and thirty thousand dollars. I can then plunder him of the money, and become most richer myself. I can also steal the king's walking stick and sell its jewels." He smiled proudly.

"Cap'n?" Mad Dog's whine was hesitant. "I don't think it actually has any jewels."

"What are you talking about, you dunce? It belonged to kings. Of course it has jewels. Now, let us away, men. We have to make it to Aidira before the Sea Duck. Oh, and please avoid those nasty sandstorms."

* * *

The desert stretched below the Sea Duck, its undulating golden dunes stretching forth, melting quietly into the azure sky. It was a magnificently awe-inspiring sight. 

Or at least it had been five hours ago. Now it was just more of the infernal sameness. They had passed over Aridia four hours ago, and Baloo's story of what had happened there had kept him entertained for a short while, but that seemed like an eternity ago. Kit Cloudkicker slumped down in his seat and sighed. It hadn't been a mistake letting Molly balance on his board. It had been a mistake forgetting to take it with him when he left for this trip.

Baloo glanced over at Kit. "Hey, li'l Britches, ya hungry?"

"Huh, what?" Kit started, and groggily looked at Baloo. "No, I'm fine."

Baloo patted his stomach. "Well, I haven't had a bite to eat we flew over Aridia. Ol' Baloo's sure starving."

"Starving!" Kit interjected. "You had three hero sandwiches and an entire pizza!"

"Well, I could use a snack." Baloo stood up. "Take the stick, Little Britches."

"Huh?" That didn't quite register. "You want _me _to fly the Sea Duck?" The Sea Duck was Baloo's baby, and he was loathe to let anybody else, including Kit, fly it.

"Sure." Baloo pushed his cap up somewhat. "She won't fly herself. Besides, you've watched me enough."

Kit didn't hesitate any further, and he slipped into the pilot's seat. It felt natural, like it was _his_, and he gripped the stick in his hands. His breathing quickened, and his eyes gleamed. This was truly where he belonged. He enjoyed navigating, but flying—oh, that was it. Everything was right and natural. He didn't even notice Baloo returning to the navigator's seat, holding only a single bottle of grape fizzy.

"Everything ok, little britches?" Baloo leaned back and took a large swig of his fizzy pop. "Yer not bored anymore, are ya?"

"Bored? I was never bored!" Kit protested. "I can't be bored in the Sea Duck!" He was aware of how weak his words sounded, and so he continued. "I love navigating! I wasn't bored! I was just…" Kit let his voice drop off. "Papa Bear, why do you think that Miss Lyden insisted that there be two to bring it?"

"She's rich. Rich people do weird things."

Kit frowned, noticing some mountains in the distance, and turned the plane. "We're going to be landing in a half hour."

"Now, I'll land the plane, li'l britches."

"Ok." Kit wasn't about to complain. It was strange. Now that his thoughts were no longer focused on how incredibly bored he was, he found himself suspicious about their delivery. "Something isn't right here, Baloo."

"What do you mean, li'l britches?"

"I don't know." Kit shrugged. "It's just…wrong." That was it. Baloo was probably right. Rich people were often eccentric. Besides, he reasoned, there was nothing all that unusual about the rules for this delivery.

"Ok, Kit, time's up," said Baloo, and he and Kit switched seats.

"Papa Bear, after we deliver it, can we leave right away?"

Baloo scratched his head. "Sure, Kit. But you've never really cared about gettin' out right away—unless ol' Beckers wants us back."

"I just want to visit Aridia," Kit lied, as the Sea Duck landed. Baloo chuckled, "You'll love Aridia! Oh, I'll have to introduce you to Myra while we're there!"

The air outside the plane was stifling and dead. "Phew! Place's hotter than the inside of a volcano! Come on, let's go find the museum so we can give it to Cira and go home."

"All right." Kit shuddered as he grabbed the package and followed Baloo. He did not like this place. The air was too still, too hot, for someplace nestled in the mountains. And there was no greenery. Mountains almost never rose up entirely out of sandy desert. There was some sort of graduation in the soil. He took a look at the village—a shantytown was more like it, with small, shadowless, one-room huts placed almost haphazardly around. If, when he next blinked his eyes, the entire village and mountain vanished, it would seem more natural.

"Hey, lady!" Baloo called to a female panther. "Where's the museum?"

The woman continued to walk, and ignored him. "Nice lady," Baloo muttered, and asked a tall, portly warthog the same question. The warthog stopped, glancing around searchingly. He smoothed his moustache, and waved at the panther, who smiled, ran towards him, and kissed him.

"Well, I'm not gonna deny them that, but they didn't have to almost knock me down running towards each other."

Kit shifted his weight. "Baloo, let's just deliver this and get out of here. Something's not right. I want to leave."

Baloo turned away from a petite turtle. "People in this town are so rude! Can't even get a single person to say hello."

"Hello! Hi! You must be Baloo and Kit!" A familiar looking tall lioness jumped up and down, waving frantically, her blonde hair haphazardly pulled into a braid, thick tortoiseshell glasses slipping down her nose. "I'm Cira Lyden!" she yelled. "Come on, the museum's here!"

Kit and Baloo followed the lioness into a small building, with a small plate on the door declaring it to be the "Museum of Aidira." "Baloo," whispered Kit. "This place looks worse than yours." The entire room was cluttered with papers and bric-a-brac, a great deal of which was broken and worthless appearing. "What kind of museum is this?"

"Oh, it's not a museum yet!" Since there were no chairs, Wurdyne sat down on the floor and held out her hands expectantly. Kit handed her the package, and Wurdyne unwrapped it.

"Perfect!" she giggled. "I'm so happy! You know, this museum'll really help us. I mean, once it's up and running. I managed to get this really nice space, an' I'm gonna have everything organized. Well, someday." Wurdyne glanced around sheepishly. "My sister says I should be more responsible." She began rooting around the piles of junk on the floor. "I put your payment here someplace safe, so I could find it right away. Just give me a sec, 'k? It won't take long. Did you have trouble finding the place. I kind of told my sister the museum was all done, so you might have been expecting something more…furnished…than this."

"No," said Kit, as Baloo said, "Well, now that you mention it, finding this place wasn't easy. People in Aidira aren't very friendly."

"Sorry about that. We're not really used to foreigners, so a lot people here are kinda rude until they get to know you. But they can be really friendly. The museum'll probably give us lots of tourists visitin' and we won't be alone anymore. Worked for Aridia. Ah-ha!" Grinning broadly, Wurdyne pulled out a red envelope. "Here it is! I knew I put it somewhere around here." She handed the envelope to Baloo, who cried, "yow!"

"Baloo!" cried Kit.

"I'm all right," said Baloo, "just a paper cut." He then opened the envelope, half expecting tosee some used birthday cards inside instead of money.

"Well, Cira, it's been a blast, but we gotta skedaddle."

"Ok!" Wurdyne chirped, waving. "Once the museum is open, be sure to visit it, ok?" She continued waving, smiling madly, until both Kit and Baloo had left, when she dropped her arm. She would stay in this room a little while longer, though.

A knock—forceful and rapid—came to the door. Wurdyne casually touched the stick and it melted quietly into the air in twisting smoke that smelled, inexplicably, like hyacinth. It had served its purpose.

The knock, this time even more harsh and determined, came again. Wurdyne pushed her glasses up her nose, stood on her tiptoes, and waved her hand. It would not do to refuse her invited guests entry. "Come in!" she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Greetings, timorous future victim! 'Tis I, thatphenomenal purloiner, Don Karnage!" The pirate captain posed grandly in the door, his body silhouetted. Once he was certain that she was properly awed, he moved purposefully inside the building, followed by Mad Dog and Dumptruck.

Wurdyne assumed an expression of naive confusion. "Who?" she asked innocently.

Don Karnage tensed. She certainly had a lot of nerve, pretending she didn't know who he was. Everybody knew him. He reached for his sword, then checked himself. It would not do for him to lose his temper now. "She needs to get her visionary checked," he chortled to Mad Dog and Dumptruck. He waited for their appreciative laughter, but it didn't come.

"Hey," whined Mad Dog, glaring suspiciously at Wurdyne. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Wurdyne bit her lip and feigned consideration of that remark. "No…well, maybe," she finally admitted. "I'm kind of…bad with faces," she giggled.

"Hey!" Dumptruck had a rare moment of genius. "Ve saw you at The Bearaton."

"Yeah!" agreed Mad Dog. He jabbed Wurdyne in the chest. "You were there."

"Oh no!" Wurdyne gasped. Her eyes widened, she covered her mouth with her hands, and stared at the three men, focusing the longest on Don Karnage. She collapsed to her knees, choking out, "That means that you're—you're—." Tears ran down her face and she frantically rubbed at them, all the while sobbing, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Karnage smirked. He forgave her earlier transgression, for she was in her place now. She knew him, and was properly awed and cowed by his presence. He unsheathed his sword and began casually inspecting it. "Now, Miss Lyden, you have just received a delivery from the Sea Duck, yes-no?" He smiled expectantly.

Wurdyne drew in a shuddering breath and nodded.

"Give it to me," he ordered.

"Give it to you?" echoed Wurdyne.

"Yes, yes, yes, give it to me!" Karnage snapped, impatiently. "The royal walking-type stick. Give it to me!"

Wurdyne giggled nervously. "I don't have it," she confessed.

Karnage touched the tip of his sword to Wurdyne's throat. "I have been very, very patient, and I know the Sea Duck delivered it here. Now, I want that stick!"

"I really don't have it anymore. The Sea Duck has it. I decided it would be best to loan it to the Cape Suzette museum. Well, I didn't decide it, Sissy did. Her name isn't really Sissy, but I call her Sissy, because she's my sister," babbled Wurdyne.

"What are you talking about?" Karnage narrowed his eyes.

"Well, you know," Wurdyne picked at some lint on her dress. "Sissy radioed me to tell me that she thought it best to donate it temporarily to the Cape Suzette Museum, 'cause it's bigger and more people would see it and then maybe decide Aidira might be nice to visit. But there are sandstorms, you know, and they tend to cut off radio transmission, make it hard to hear and everything, so I must have missed what she said."

"So what?" Mad Dog whined, and, shamefacedly, Wurdyne continued explaining: "My sister obviously asked you to deliver the package back to Cape Suzette for her. I mean, it wouldn't be fair for the Sea Duck to have to do all that extra, unplanned work. I mean, I personally don't know you very well, because all my information about the outside world comes from Sissy. But you're honest and trustworthy."

The air pirates laughed.

"What's wrong?" cried Wurdyne. "I don't know you personally, but I know you're honest and trustworthy! You're handsome, and handsome people are never evil!" Wurdyne concluded triumphantly. She then put her face in her hands and, once again sobbing, said, "I don't know what I'll do if Sissy finds out. She trusted me so much, and I broke her trust."

Karnage gave the lioness an expression of calculated sympathy. "My dear Miss Lyden, you have absolutely _nothing _to worry about. If your sister does not find out, then I can see no problem, sí? As a matter of facts," he said, resheathing his sword, "It is not too late for my glorious self to catch up with Baloo and take back the walking stick."

"Really?" gasped Wurdyne, clasping her hands together. "But I don't think Sissy told them about you. They didn't say anything when I asked them to take it back to Cape Suzette."

"Miss Lyden, that miser—er, Baloo and I are old bon amis, yes-no?" The pirate smiled genteelly. "I _will _take that stick from him," he concluded, a modicum of cold, hard greed escaping from his voice. He then cleared his throat and said, in an off-hand way, "Perhaps I could be of some assistance to you? It is considered rather proper for a country to have more than one exhibit in the Cape Suzette Museum. If there were very many expensive things in the museum, then people would realize what a wonderful place Aidira is."

"Sissy wouldn't be angry at me, because I'd be helping her out!"

"Yes, yes." The wolf moved in for the kill. "And I would be most happy to deliver those artifacts…for a small fee, of course," he offered generously.

"A small fee?" repeated Wurdyne.

"Yes," agreed Karnage amicably. "I must be able to pay for fuel. Surely you can afford, say, five thousand dollars?"

"Five thousand dollars just for fuel?" gasped Wurdyne. "It's such an awful lot of money. But—" determinedly, she stood up. "It's for Aidira and Sissy, so it's a small price to pay!"

"Grazie." The pirate captain bowed and cast a cool, calculated eye about the room. He supposed that some of it might have some sort of sentimental value, but there was clearly nothing of monetary value, just worthless bric-a-brac from some uncharted little nothing country. "I am afraid, Miss Lyden, that I cannot see anything here that would be suitable for Cape Suzette. Perhaps you would be so kind as to give me something valuable."

"Why, yes, of course. I'll be happy to!" Breathlessly, Wurdyne opened up one of a myriad of drawers and cabinets and reached her hand inside. It was empty inside, but that did not matter; the pirates couldn't tell that. She stretched her fingers out and produced an object that she knew would meet with their specifications.

"I hope this is ok," she said nervously, as she presented it. It was terribly, completely, and utterly gaudy, consisting of a rather large hunk of pure silver formed into the shape of a bust. Gold had been poured upon the top of it, forming hair. Sapphires and onyx formed the eyes and the ears were rather large nodules of lapis lazuli. The mouth consisted of ruby lips and diamond teeth. There was no nose.

"This is a bust of the god—" Wurdyne began, but Don Karnage interrupted her by sighing loudly and tapping his foot.

"Miss Lyden," he said impatiently, "I do not care about that. Give it to me." He held out his hand, and Wurdyne handed the bust to him.

"Now, my five thousand dollars, if you please. Do not pretend to be the forgetful elephant-type person."

"I wouldn't!" Wurdyne cried hotly. "Sissy would never forgive me if I didn't keep my word." She reached into another drawer and procured the money, which she handed to the pirate captain.

"I must be off." Don Karnage bowed. "The Sea Duck awaits." The air pirates then left.

"Bye-bye!" Wurdyne waved cheerfully. "Be sure to visit!" She dropped her hand, and her vapid smile as well.

"Watch out for sandstorms," she whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

* * *

"I guess it was pretty obvious why Diana wanted _two _of us to deliver the package, right, li'l britches?" 

"I guess so," Kit said absentmindedly, staring out the window.

"Cira was nice, but boy, was she absent-minded. Kinda like ol' Beckers, huh?" Baloo looked at Kit out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, sure, Papa Bear," replied Kit.

Baloo frowned. Kit was definitely not paying attention to him. "What's the matter, Kit? You've been acting weird ever since you left Cira's."

Kit sighed, uncertain of what to tell Baloo. It all seemed so utterly ridiculous and impossible to him. He had to be his imagination; that was the only logical conclusion. "It's nothing."

"Aw, we're friends. You can tell ol' Baloo. I won't laugh, I promise." Baloo smiled at Kit, an idea forming in his head. He remembered being Kit's age. "Did ya think she was pretty?"

"ShewasDiana," Kit answered quickly, all in one breath.

"Well, they _were_ twins," Baloo agreed.

"No," Kit protested angrily, "She _was _Diana. They were the same person. And I don't

think her name is Diana or Cira."

"Now Kit," Baloo said patiently, "You're not making any sense. Diana's back in Cape Suzette. And you saw how different they were."

Kit pounded his fist on the armrest. "They're the same person!" he cried, surprised by his own vehemence. "They're the same person," he repeated, soberly. "I know it doesn't make any sense, but—" Kit paused, noticing several dark specks in the sky.

"Air pirates, one o'clock," he said calmly and buckled his seatbelt.

"Hang on, li'l britches! I'll shake those guys quicker than you can say jackrabbit."

Baloo pulled on the yoke, sending the Sea Duck sharply to the right as the air pirates came upon them, guns blazing. He detested this. He loved flying; the relaxation, the freedom. Outflying a bunch of common crooks was neither relaxing nor freeing, but a dull, tedious chore.

The radio crackled, and Baloo picked up the transmitter. "Whaddya want, Karny?"

Don Karnage clucked. "Now now now, you silly Baloo type person. You must be knowing that I am always hating that nickname." He paused, waiting for an apology, and when it did not come, continued in the same falsely jovial, light-hearted voice that he had first spoken in. "Please be so kind as to give me the walking-type stick, or I shall be forced to shoot you down."

"Sorry, Karny," Baloo said sarcastically. "I don't have it anymore."

"Do not lie to m—"

Baloo hung his transmitter up.

Karnage stared, dumbfounded, at the transmitter he held in his hand, static crackling from it. How dare that miserable bear hang up on his wonderful self. His breathing became labored and his voice deepened. "You will pay for that insult, Baloo." He set his radio to speak to his crew.

"Get that bear!" he shouted. "If you let him go, I will hang you by your pinkies!" It was an old, but effective, threat. "We will," he ordered, "use formation Alpha Seven Able Baker Butcher Candlestick Maker Charlie."

The air pirates responded with a cacophonous chorus of confusion and uncertainty. Karnage, wishing once again he had a crew with even half the intelligence of a jellyfish, clarified himself. "The brand new one we first did last Thursday."

Understanding, the pirates continued their attack, diving, sweeping to and fro in a seemingly random pattern.

"There's never a cliff gun around when—" a bullet pinged on the Sea Duck—"you need one," Baloo said.

"Sure thing, Papa Bea—" Kit's agreement was cut short by a choked, weak cry.

"Kit, are you—KIT!!" Baloo shouted. His face paled and he stared, horrified, at a dark stain that slowly began covering Kit's sweater.

Kit reached up to touch his chest and felt a warm, viscous substance on it. He held his hand out in front of his eye and noticed that his fingers were red. Red, Kit knew, stained something terrible. "Rats," he pouted, "and I really liked that sweater, too." Kit's eyes closed and his entire body slumped.

"_**KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!"**_ Baloo cried again, a tragic roar coming from deep within his soul. He placed the auto-pilot—really a simple crowbar—on the yoke and ran to the medicine chest at the back of the plane.

"Come on, baby," he begged, his fingers shaking and slick with sweat as he tried to open the metal box. "Just open. Please, I need you to open."

The small box finally opened, revealing its contents. Baloo took two objects—a small dark glass bottle of mercurochrome and a roll of bandages—and ran back to Kit. The pilot knelt by his navigator and let the bandages start to unwind. He pressed them, uselessly, against Kit's chest and they were soon soaked through.

His soul's roar became louder as Baloo struggled to open the bottle of mercurochrome. His fingers were slick and slipped on the glass container. It would not open. Baloo, intelligently, knew that the liquid would not do Kit one bit of good, but he had to try. He could not simply give up. He had to save Kit.

The bottle clattered to the floor of the Sea Duck, and several of the pirates, swooped, again, on the Sea Duck. Instinctively, Baloo threw off the crowbar and avoided the pirates.

In control of the Sea Duck, he was able to think logically. Kit wasn't dead. Baloo refused to believe Kit was dead. He would not give up on Kit. He had to get help. Aridia would certainly have the medical help he required. However, he knew that it would take far too long to reach Aridia. Kit would be dead hours before he did so.

Baloo made his decision. Aidira was a poor land filled with rude people. But it was the closest land, and the only chance Kit had. He would go there and force them to save Kit. He would not take no for an answer.

Having decided that, Baloo turned the Sea Duck in the direction of Aidira and realized that the deep roar was not a cry of grief emitting from deep within his soul. Directly in front of the Sea Duck arose a massive dark funnel, terrible and ominous.

"First pirates, now a sandstorm?!" Baloo knew he could avoid all the pirates, or he could avoid the sandstorm. There was really no decision to be made, and Baloo pulled the yoke sharply to the right, and the Sea Duck turned North.

Though it had to be impossible, the sandstorm was still in front of the Sea Duck. It was all really too much. He remembered Diana's warning—"there are sandstorms"—said in a polite, relaxed manner. He had expected any sandstorms he might encounter to be small enough for him to fly rings around; not this immense behemoth that was bearing down on the Sea Duck.

The sandstorm crashed into the Sea Duck, and began clogging the engines with sand so that they did not work properly. The left engine failed almost immediately, and the Sea Duck began rocking helplessly.

"Hold together, baby," Baloo begged, attempting fruitlessly to right the plane. All was dark, and he could not see. "Please, baby, if we do this when we get back to Cape Suzette I'll have Wildcat fix you up good as new. Just stay together long enough for me to reach Aidira and save Kit. Please, baby."

The right engine failed, and the Sea Duck was silent. All that remained was the deep, rumbling, wild and terrifying roar of the sandstorm that engulfed the Sea Duck. Baloo let go of the yoke. There was nothing more he could do.

With the Sea Duck was completely at the mercy of the winds of the sandstorm, Baloo somehow managed to make his way over to Kit. He unbuckled him and hugged the cub's small, still body.

"I'm sorry, Kit," he sobbed. "I'm so…so sorry. I'm sorry." He continued apologizing as the Sea Duck plummeted towards the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

_**TaleSpin: Sacrificial Wrongs**_

_**by: Marie Kelly**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_The characters and settings from TaleSpin belong to the Walt Disney Company and are used without permission. The characters and settings not from TaleSpin belong to me and are used with permission. Also, I'd like to apologize for this being so darned late. _

* * *

It was pain that awoke Baloo; a sharp, stabbing pain in his right side and a dull, throbbing pain in his head. He groaned, and lifted up his left hand to feel his head. His fingers touched upon a painful swelling, and he winced. He most likely had a concussion and broken ribs. The pilot took some solace in the fact that at least he wasn't dead.

"Dead! Kit!" Ignoring the pain, he stood rapidly up. His feet crunched on a thin sprinkling of sand and he stared, horrified, at the sight in front of him. The Sea Duck was a mess. The plane lay on its side, completely bent out of shape, with the windshield cracked and the pilot door laying halfway off its hinges. There was absolutely no possibility of the Sea Duck being anything close to airworthy. However wretched that might be, Baloo did not care about it. All he cared about was that Kit was missing.

"KIT!! Where are ya, li'l britches?!" Baloo looked into the cargo hold, and found it clean and empty, save for a few small boxes lying around and his heart dropped slightly. He closed his eyes, and reopened them, almost hoping that Kit would miraculously appear.

"KIIIT!!" Baloo ignored the pain to yell once more. He was rather surprised to hear a sort of muffled sound, as of feet upon sand, coming from outside the plane. "KIT!" he called again, walking towards the open cockpit door. He reached it, and leaned out of the plane.

"You miserable bear!" Don Karnage reached into the plane, and pushed Baloo back. The pirate then leapt nimbly into the Sea Duck and stood over Baloo, breathing heavily. His clothes were torn severely yet, Baloo noticed disgustedly, his body seemed free of any injuries.

"Thanks to you," Karnage growled, "I have lost my plane, I have lost my men, I have lost my sword, and I have lost my treasure!" Infuriated, he kicked Baloo in the side. Baloo winced, glad that Karnage hadn't chosen to kick his cracked rib. The pilot stood up, trying his best to hide his injuries.

"Kit's gone," Baloo said accusingly.

Karnage shrugged. "Why should I be caring about this Kit person?"

White-hot rage filled Baloo, and he wanted to throw himself on the pirate. "Well, I don't know, Karny," he spat, venom and fury pouring forth from his entire body. "Maybe I was hoping that there might be some decency in you. Maybe I'm just an idiot who was hoping that even _you _might show some regret after you killed your old protégé!"

"Protégé?" Karnage repeated, confused. "What are you talking about, you estupid bear?"

"Listen here, Karnage, I don't like this anymore than Kit does, but he was your protégé for about a year!" Baloo had no idea why he was telling Karnage that. He knew better than to expect any show of decency from that pirate, but it still sickened him. It sickened him that somebody as wonderful as Kit had spent so much of his time trying to please somebody that didn't care one speck for him. It sickened him simply that Kit Cloudkicker had ever met Don Karnage.

A dark grin slowly spread across Karnage's face. "Ah, my reckless rival, you have hit your head and completely lost all your marble cakes. I do not have a protégé. I never had a protégé."

"Kit—!"

"Kit who?" Karnage said carelessly. "I do not know this Kit person."

Bile rose in Baloo's throat. "Kit's my navigator!" he shouted. "He's the best damn navigator in the world! I know you hate him because he betrayed you, but he's the finest navigator in the world!"

"Betray…me? You must be mistaken, Baloo. I have _never_ permitted _any_ betrayal," Karnage growled, his voice cold.

"Then how come your attack on Cape Suzette failed? You had to leave pretty early."

The pirate seethed. "It was that annoying business lady-type boss of yours!" His face twisted into an ugly visage as he remembered. "_I_ attacked Cape Suzette. _I_ invaded Cape Suzette. _I_ plundered Cape Suzette. _I_ had the entire city on its knees. _I_ should have had _all_ the gloriousity, yet who was on the front pages of the newspaper? The heroes of Cape Suzette, Baloo and Rebecca Cunningham!" He smacked his fist against the side of the plane. "That should have been me!"

"You're no hero, Karnage," Baloo growled. "Just a no-good, lyin', stinkin', thievin' murderer!"

Karnage glanced over at the navigator's chair. "This Kit person was in that chair when I shot him?"

"Yes."

"Ah-ha!" Karnage smirked. "I am now knowing what you are trying to do, Baloo," he sneered, "and it will not work."

"What _I'm_ trying to do?"

"I am, as you well know, a man of honor. Naturalmente, as a man of honor I would be most horrified to discover that I had accidentally killed somebody."

"But murder's ok!" Baloo spat.

Karnage pointedly ignored Baloo as he continued. "You claim that Kit was sitting in that chair and I have shooted at him, but most clearly nobody was ever in that chair. Not only is there no Kit there now, but there never was anybody there, yes-no?"

"Why you…"

Karnage clicked his tongue. "Temper, temper, Baloo. You are most injured." To emphasize his point, he poked Baloo in his cracked rib. "Were you really thinking that I would not be noticing that, Baloo? I do admire your attempt to keep your injury hidden," he admitted. "But you have forgotten something very, very important. You might not be aware of this, but people who are shot, bleed. And blood stains terribly. If I, as you say, killed this Kit person, then where is the blood?"

"Are you crazy, Karnage!?" Baloo yelled.

Karnage's eyes widened and he reached for his sword, his fingers brushing against his hip before he remembered he no longer had it. "Never call me _that word_," he whispered.

"It's right he—" Baloo's voice dropped off, disbelieving. The navigator's chair, and the floor around it, were spotlessly clean. "But that's impossible," he whispered. "Kit was shot." He looked down at his shirt, and found it to be perfectly clean. Had he not hugged Kit before he lost consciousness? How, then, could there be no blood on his shirt? "That's impossible. Kit was right there. I know he was." Talking more to himself, Baloo began recounting the events. "We were flying. You attacked us. You shot Kit--" at that, Karnage sighed and rolled his eyes.

Baloo, still remembering aloud, began physically retracing his steps. "After you shot Kit, I put on the auto-pilot and ran back here to…get…no. No. No. No." Baloo stepped back, shaking his head. Before him, hanging half-off the bent and twisted shelf, was a slightly warped, yet still sealed metal box.

Hands shaking, Baloo took the box, opened it, and peered inside. Inside were throat lozenges, some aspirin, and a clean roll of gauze bandages and a bottle of Mercurochrome. Baloo took out the bandages and the Mercurochrome, still unable to believe what he saw. He had used them. Or at least, he had _tried_ to use them. Fat lot of good they had done him. Nevertheless, there was no possible way they could have been returned to the medicine box, in their original state.

_But they had._

Exasperated, Don Karnage grabbed Baloo by the collar and pulled the bear's face close to his own. "Listen, you miserable bear, you are owing me some treasure, and I want it _now_." With that, he unceremoniously pushed the bear to the floor of the seaplane. "Give me the royal walking stick and the one hundred thirty thousand dollars you received in payment for it, if you don't mind."

"Walking stick? Karny, I told you, I don't have it. I gave it to Cira Lyden."

Karnage chuckled. "You will not be fooling me like that, Baloo. I had a very interesting conversation with Miss Lyden and she told me that the Sea Duck was delivering the artifact back to Cape Suzette. Of course, my most magnanimous self offered to assist in the delivery. Now—" Karnage looked around the Sea Duck. "—I am not seeing it. So, where is it?"

"I told you Karny, I don't have it. It's back in Aidira. I left it with Cira. Kit didn't trust Cira. Or Diana for that matter. He found this whole thing fishier than last Tuesday's special at Louie's. But I ignored him. Why did I ignore him? Why didn't I listen to him?" Baloo put his head in his hands.

"You really do not have the walking stick?" Karnage asked, surprised. "Very well, then." He smoothed, as best he could, his torn clothes. "But I want the one hundred and thirty thousand dollars. I am tired of waiting!!"

"You want it? Fine! Take it!" Baloo reached into his shirt's pocket and threw the envelope with the money at the pirate. Karnage accepted it, opened the envelope, and began greedily inspecting the money.

Karnage thus distracted, Baloo took the opportunity to attempt to radio for help. As he picked up the microphone, his heart sank. The sheath covering the wires was ripped, and the wires were exposed, torn and frayed. Still, Baloo knew the Sea Duck was a fine plane. He would be able to radio Becky, and she would tell him that Kit was safe at Higher for Hire.

"This is the Sea Duck," he said. His voice was clear, and he very faintly heard the static near-echo that accompanied his voice when he spoke on a properly functioning radio. Baloo brightened and repeated his desperate plea for help. "This is the Sea Duck. If anybody can hear me, please respond."

From the radio there came a faint reply, full of static. "We hear you Sea Duck. Over."

Baloo sighed in relief. "I crashed in—"

Karnage interrupted Baloo by deftly reaching out and pulling hard on the microphone cord, severing it from the radio. "What the hell did you do that for, Karny?" Baloo gasped.

Karnage glared. "I will not allow you to call the annoying police officials so they can arrest me, Baloo."

"Yeah, well, how are we s'posed ta get outta here?" Baloo countered.

Karnage's face dropped. "I do not know."

"Well," Baloo decided, "I ain't stayin' here with you." _Kit's out there somewhere, and I've gotta find him_. He stepped out of the Sea Duck into a great expanse of desert. Before him lay the setting sun, the darkly colored disk casting a deep, burnt orange glow upon the swells of sand below. The Sea Duck lay at the bottom of a sand dune, to the east of the sun. Baloo decided to go to the top of the dune upon which the Sea Duck lay, to see if he could see anything except an eternity of sand.

As soon as he did so, Baloo gasped. Below him there was a rather small town, composed primarily of stucco and adobe buildings. Around the town were a giant pyramid and a series of smaller pyramids.

"But that's Aridia," Baloo wondered. How could he possibly be near Aridia? He had been attacked, and swallowed by the sandstorm barely fifteen minutes form Aidira. Aridia was hours from Aidira. It was almost impossible to believe that the sandstorm had carried him all the way to Aridia.

Baloo started walking towards Aridia. He would call Becky, get some medical attention for himself, and rescue Kit.

"Hang on, Li'l Britches," he whispered. "I'll save ya."

* * *

"Seventy-five percent?" Rebecca Cunningham clenched the phone so tightly the tips of her fingers turned white. "What do you mean, you're raising the Sea Duck's insurance seventy-five percent?"

The insurance agent spoke with the patient, somewhat condescending tone of one who was used to dealing with idiots. "Miss Cunningham, shipping is a rather risky venture."

"I know that!" Rebecca spat. "That's why I'm paying you guys good money. But I don't think a seventy-five percent increase is reasonable."

"It's perfectly reasonable. We at Air First Insurance pride ourselves on dealing with each of our clients in a personal way. We have the personal touch." Rebecca rolled her eyes at the mindless quoting of the company's motto. "And the Higher for Hire has lost more cargo to air pirate attacks than any other freight company we cover. Therefore, we must raise your rates."

"But…there haven't been any pirate attacks!"

"Oh? Miss Cunningham, I have here the record of the Sea Duck's insurance claims. The Sea Duck lost three percent more cargo than anybody else we cover and when stated reason the cargo was lost or delayed, may I quote, 'pilot was attacked by air pirates' appears eighty-three percent of the time."

"Well, yes, but…"

"Are you suggesting that there was deception on your part, Miss Cunningham? Might I remind you that fraud is federal offense?"

"Fraud?!" Rebecca sputtered. She had detested putting down the air pirate excuse, but her insurance company had insisted on a reason. "I did not commit fraud!"

"Good." Rebecca practically heard the insurance agent smile. "Then we will expect the updated payment at our offices within three business days."

"Three days?" Rebecca was livid. "There's a mandatory two week notice!"

"We mailed it out ten days ago."

"But I just received it today!"

"We cannot be blamed for any delays that the Post Office might incur."

"I'll just bet you can't," Rebecca muttered through clenched teeth.

"Pardon?" the insurance agent asked pleasantly.

Rebecca sighed. "I'll have it at your office."

"Thank you. It was a pleasure, Miss Cunningham. Remember, we at Air First Insurance care personally about all our customers, and we have the personal touch." Grimacing, Rebecca hung up the telephone. _I swear,_ she thought, _if Baloo tries to give me the air pirate excuse one more time, I'll make sure he never buys back the Sea Duck._

"He was mean, wasn't he, Mommy?" Rebecca's six year-old daughter asked seriously.

"No, sweetie," Rebecca smiled tiredly. "He was just doing his job."

"But he didn't have to be such a jerk about it."

"I don't like you using that language, Molly Cunningham," Rebecca scolded. "Now go play, sweetie. Mommy has to think."

"Okay! On our last exciting adventure, the evil criminal group, The Gang of Six, stole the precious Endless Emerald, which they plan to use to take over the world. Only one person can stop them—Danger Woman!" While speaking, Molly put on her Danger Woman costume—a blue blanket as a cape, a colander as a helmet, and a spatula as the Danger Wand.

"Ah-ha!" Molly grasped her spatula tightly and staring at a red, upholstered chair. "Danger Woman has discovered that the criminals hid the Endless Emerald in a deep dark cave. Only Danger Woman can go in and save the world!" Molly crawled under the chair. She remembered a green ball had rolled under the bed; that would suffice as the Endless Emerald.

Her mother must have cleaned it up, because the ball wasn't there. Molly wasn't disappointed, because something else was there. Wondering, she pulled the strange object out, and looked at it. It was curved object, consisting of overlapping metal wedges. "What's this?" she wondered.

Rebecca looked over. "I don't know, Molly," she replied. "It's probably something of Wildcat's." Rebecca sighed. "I have one employee who clearly isn't on this planet, and one who's completely irresponsible. Why can't I have just one decent employee? Maybe if I had that, I wouldn't be worrying about the insurance rate hike." Rebecca pushed her books and ledgers away from her. "Where am I supposed to get that much money right now?" Molly stopped playing and looked at her mother.

"Why don't you use the money Miss Lyden gave us?" she suggested.

"Oh, sweetie, that's a great idea. But she wrote a check, and banks won't clear the check in time."

Molly turned her attention back to the strange metallic object. She wondered why Wildcat had left it under Baloo's chair, instead of in his houseboat. When she lifted it up, it folded in on itself, thus becoming a smaller, more manageable size. Molly pulled on the sides, and it fanned open until a very faint, almost inaudible click was heard. The object, at full size, was approximately twice as big as it had been when she first pulled it out from under the chair.

"I know!" she cried, holding the surprisingly light object in front of her chest. "The Gang of Six was almost about to get Danger Woman, but luckily she has her trusty Danger Shield to protect her! No attack can get past the Danger Shield!" Molly smiled to herself, and hoped that Wildcat wouldn't ask for the Danger Shield back anytime soon. It would be such a shame to have to return such a fun toy.

"Finders keepers," she whispered and smiled, satisfied.

* * *

As Kit woke up, he realized that he felt simply wonderful. He moaned happily and burrowed down into the incredibly thick, strong, smooth sheets. A gentle, warm, floral scent filled his nostrils. A scent, he slowly came to realize, should not exist. Nor should his bedding feel this impossibly comfortable. Kit groaned as he realized he was dreaming. A pity. This was such a nice dream, and he fought to hold onto the dream.

Kit decided he would avoid waking up for as long as possible and scrunched his eyes shut, willing himself to stay asleep for as long as possible. Curiously enough, though, nothing changed. Though he was fully aware of his state, Kit continued to dream. The cool softness of the sheets remained upon his skin, and he did not hear the expected raspy snoring of Baloo in the bed beside him.

With a sudden, involuntary gasp Kit sat straight up in the bed, his eyes wide open. Kit knew, without a doubt, that he was no longer asleep. He also knew that he had no idea where he was. The room was actually quite small, with his bedding taking up most of the floor. The wall was painted gold, and upon the walls were mosaics of precious gemstones.

A tigress, with black braided hair and a bright crimson robe knelt by an incense burner. When Kit opened her eyes, she appeared startled for but a second, and then bowed her head ever so slightly. "I see you are awake, Little Master," she said, and the accent in her voice was somehow familiar.

"Where's Baloo?" Kit demanded.

"Baloo?" The tigress bit her lip. "What are you talking about, Little Master?"

"Did you bring me here?" Kit didn't wait for a reply, but continued. "I was with Baloo. We were flying. Then…something happened. I don't know what, but…" Kit's voice dropped off. He was aware that there was something missing from his memory, something important, but he didn't know what it was.

"Flying?" The tigress gave a nervous chuckle. "You're talking nonsense, Little Master."

"Please…Baloo's out there. Where is he?" Kit breathed heavily. "I need him. He's my friend, and I need him."

"Little Master," the tigress wrung her hands together. "You are not making any sense. You are our Little Master. You have never flown with any Baloo. You—"

"I shall take care of this, Benete," said familiar voice. Goosebumps popped up on Kit's skin. He _knew_ that voice. It sounded different from the way he had heard it before, but he still knew it. The person to whom the voice belonged stood in the shadows.

Benete, the tigress, stared at her hands, which she had clenched into fists. "It is my duty to watch over the Little Master," she managed to choke out. "Do not bother us. Your duty is done."

"My duty is not done, Benete. If it were, we would not be having this conversation, would we, Benete?"

"Don't call me that!" snapped Benete. "I can't tolerate the thought of somebody like you talking to me in such a familiar manner. You failed." Benete curled her lip in distaste. "Why should you get another chance?"

"I agree," the voice said jovially. "But you can't fix it, can you? Only I can make him the way he's supposed to be, so I shall kindly request that you leave."

Reluctantly, Benete stood up. "I think it's utterly shameful that a person like you is going to enter such a place as this," she proclaimed and exited the room, almost seeming to turn her body in on itself to avoid touching the person to whom the voice belonged.

"Hello, Kit Cloudkicker," the person said, entering the room. "Do you remember me?"

"You're Diana and Cira."

Wurdyne smiled. "Yes, I am. You may call me Wurdyne."

Kit ignored her. "Where's Baloo?" he demanded. "I have to find him. I have to go home."

"There is no Baloo." Gracefully, Wurdyne knelt by Kit's bedding and produced a vial made of brown crystal from a leather bag that hung upon her waist. "You have been dreaming, Little Master."

"No I haven't!" Kit yelled.

Wurdyne emptied the vial, which contained oil, into her palms. She rubbed them together and began massaging Kit's scalp. "Baloo is a dream, Little Master. This is your home. This is where you have always lived."

"But—" Half-heartedly, Kit tried to pull away from Wurdyne. The massage was terrifyingly comfortable, and he felt his desires being sapped away. "But Baloo and I have always—"

"Do you remember anything besides Baloo, Little Master?"

"I can't," Kit whispered. "I should, but I can't."

"It was a dream," explained Wurdyne. "Or perhaps, this is the dream. Go to sleep," she ordered. "When you awaken, you will have no more doubts, Little Master."

Kit obeyed. Though he wanted to protest, he was suddenly tired. Wurdyne watched him as he slept. She took out a bronze dagger that she had nestled in her bosom. "I was surprised that you remembered Baloo," she whispered, knowing that Kit could not hear her. "That means he's probably remembered you."

Wurdyne lifted Kit's wrist. "But I can't guarantee that," she explained. "Yet." Quickly, she slashed at Kit's wrist with the knife. Blood quickly flowed from the wound, and Wurdyne caught it in the vial. Once it was full, she stoppered the vial and wrapped a silken cloth around Kit's hand, staunching the blood. It was quite good that only she knew the proper method of doing things. It would not do to have others questioning her methods.

"This is my guarantee that you will not be forgotten," she whispered, staring at the vial. "If you are forgotten, you will die. And this world will remain as it has for eternity." Wurdyne frowned, and placed the vial into her bag. "_That_ I will _not_ permit." Leaving Kit sleeping peacefully, she exited the room.

Wurdyne's shadow, long and lean, lay before her as she drew her cloak about her and hurried across the streets. Though it was midday, the streets were completely bare and black. She cast her eyes down and drew her cloak across her nose and mouth, protecting it from the thick, acrid smoke that spilled forth from the volcano.

Wurdyne frowned and quickened her step. This was wrong. The volcano, she knew, should not be in such a state. "Not now. Not _yet_. Sister, what are you doing?" Muttering, Wurdyne fell to her hands and knees and began crawling into a small octagonal hole carved into the side of a mountain. Not being the Lady Shelorna Most High of the Second, she was forbidden from going inside, but Wurdyne didn't care. She simply had to talk to her sister.

Presently the narrow, cramped path gave way to a large, open aired atrium. The darkness of the sky outside meant that the only light that existed in the place came forth from lichens, mosses glowing unnaturally against the cave wall. Wurdyne blinked, and allowed herself time for her eyes to adjust. She nudged a foot forward, and her toes touched something dry and leathery. Curious, she knelt down to inspect it and was rather surprised at the excellent state of composition the corpse remained. She could even see the mark on the chest and throat where the dagger had been plunged in and dragged across, respectively.

_I would have thought that he'd be just a pile of bones by now,_ she thought, a twisted smile playing at the corners of her lips. _He's been mummified quite well. They've_ all _been mummified quite well. Too bed their so-called powers haven't lasted as long as their bodies have_.

In the center of the room was a tall and slender young girl, who appeared to be fourteen years of age, though Wurdyne knew her age to be only eleven. She ignored Wurdyne as she carefully lifted a dagger up and plunged it forcefully into the chest of one of the mummies. She then bit her lip and stared, thoughtfully, at it.

Wurdyne chortled. "And just what are you doing, sister dear?"

Instinctively, the girl drew in a sharp intake of breath. "You know you're not supposed to be here. This is a sacred area. Since you brought him here, you have become the Despoiled One."

Wurdyne smirked. "I'm only that for three more days. Besides, won't the purification rituals get rid of any so-called bad vibes I might give off?"

Slowly, the girl nodded her head. "Why are you here, Wurdyne?"

"I'm worried about you, Shelorna," Wurdyne said honestly. "I wanted to know what you were doing. You've been acting very strangely."

"Oh, that," said Shelorna, gesturing to the dagger. "I was trying to figure out the best way to kill him. I know, I know!" Shelorna interrupted Wurdyne before she had a chance to say anything. "The sacrifice must be killed by a first a strike to the heart and then a slashing of the throat. But I'm trying to figure out the best way to go about doing it. The way for him to die as quickly as possible, with as little suffering as possible."

"You don't want him to suffer," Wurdyne repeated.

"Of course not!" Shelorna sobbed. "It's not his fault! He's not an evil person! He was just chosen! How could I possibly want him to suffer? It's bad enough he has to die."

"Then don't kill him," Wurdyne suggested. "We'll have somebody else do it this time."

"NO! I am the only one who can give the gods the sacrifice to appease them! You are the only one who can select the sacrifice, and I am the only one who can kill him. Only I can appease the gods."

"You're not doing a very good job at it," Wurdyne said cynically.

Shelorna looked surprised. "What in the world are you talking about? I have carried out my duties faithfully for almost ten—"

"Oh, please sister dear, this land is an absolute mess! How long have we been surviving on cactus berries? How long has it been since the land was fertile enough for us to grow food for livestock? How long has it been since water hasn't been rationed? How long has it been since grass has been green, and not dry and dead and brown? And look outside. The volcano looks like it's about to erupt any minute now, and the sacrifice can't be killed until the Moon is completely new…in three days time. What will you do if the volcano erupts before then?"

"What _can_ I do?" whispered Shelorna helplessly.

"Talk to him," Wurdyne ordered. "Get to know him. Get to know Kit Cloudkicker."

"The sacrifice?" Shelorna was horrified. "I couldn't possibly do that! He doesn't even know himself. You've taken all his memories away from him, so how can I possibly get to know him? What good could it possibly do? It would only cause me pain."

"I took his memories. I haven't taken away his personality. I haven't taken away who he is, inside. You have to get to know him. You have to get to like him, and care for him. Your heart has to break when you kill him."

"Are you crazy?" hissed Shelorna. "What's wrong with you?"

"Perhaps I'm wrong," Wurdyne softly conceded, "But I believe the gods are no longer satisfied with merely a physical sacrifice. I believe they haven't been satisfied for quite some time. Remember when the little Reocale boy died because of the fever? You wept for days. But you've never once had any sort of feelings towards the sacrifices, other than 'I'm sure they were good people, and I must treat them with respect.' If I were a god, I would wonder why your emotions were so much greater for a mere village boy, and not my gift. I would wonder if you only completed the sacrifices because they were easy for you—"

"They're not easy! They're very, very hard. They're so hard, I don't need to talk to him."

"Are they, really? Or are you afraid you'll come to like him? Are you afraid you'll choose him over this land and people? Are you afraid you'll let him escape, and watch as everybody around you dies?"

"No," Shelorna said firmly. "I love this land more than anything. I will never allow this land to be destroyed."

"Then prove it. Try my suggestion. Know him. Care for him. Have the sacrifice _mean_ something. And then, after all is said and done, I'm sure you'll be left with fond memories of him, instead of just a memory of another routine sacrifice."

After a long pause, Shelorna agreed to do as her sister asked. There were no more words exchanged, merely the slightest dipping of her head and aversion of the eyes—signs that Wurdyne knew full well meant that her sister would do as she was told. She kept her face a cool, expressionless mask until her sister had left, when she finally permitted herself a rather large, jovial grin.

"That was easy enough," she said, reaching into her bag to feel the vial filled with Kit's blood. The vial was slightly cool to the touch. _And now, my friends, time to get that bear and that pirate to come here and rescue Kit Cloudkicker. I'm going to save you, sister, even if I have to kill every single person here to do it_.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sacrificial Wrongs**_

_**by: Marie Kelly**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_The characters and settings from TaleSpin belong to the Walt Disney Company and are used without permission. The characters and settings not from TaleSpin belong to me and are used with permission. _

The air inside the taxicab was stale and stunk of tobacco. Molly Cunningham ran a finger over a small rip in the seat and looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye. As she had done since she left the bank, Rebecca sat almost perfectly still, her fingers nervously running up and down her brown leather pocketbook. Her eyes seemed worried.

Rebecca had been in far brighter spirits when she woke Molly up. They had quickly breakfasted and taken a cab to the Cape Suzette Bank, where her mother had spent a half hour fruitlessly trying to get the bank representative to either give her a loan, or permit her to cash Ms. Lyden's check ahead of schedule.

In both cases, the bank had refused. Checks simply could not be cashed early and Higher for Hire was not in the position to be granted any more loans. Molly thought that the representative was being extremely rude and was about to give him a piece of her mind. Before she could do so, however, her mother had told the representative goodbye, and she and Molly had left.

"Mommy's worried about paying the bills," she told her doll. "But don't worry, Lucy. Everything'll be ok."

In the front the driver, a skinny fox with an unlit cigar chomped between his teeth, grunted. "Hey, you got money to pay for this ride, lady? I don't give free rides."

Rebecca smiled coldly. "Why yes, I _do_ have enough money."

The driver chewed on his cigar for a bit. "Good. 'Cause like I said, no freebies. I don't like thieves ridin' in my cab."

Molly was justifiably angry, and she saw no reason to keep quiet. "Hey, you jerk!" she shouted. "My mommy is not a thief, and you should apologize to her!"

"Shhh, Molly." Rebecca placed one hand on her daughter's shoulder. "He's just concerned about his business. "

"Well, he doesn't have to be so mean!" Molly pouted. Secretly, her mother agreed with her. Rebecca Cunningham would have liked nothing more than to be let out of the cab and, after paying, hail another cab; one of far better condition of both car and driver. But more importantly right now, she wanted to get to Higher for Hire as soon as possible. She couldn't waste a single minute hailing another cab.

_Baloo might be back. In fact, I'm sure he's back_, she told herself, disbelieving each word. As the limousine pulled into the side of Higher for Hire's main building, Rebecca did not see the Sea Duck. She did, however, see a limousine parked out front.

Rebecca was, needless to say, rather surprised. The location of Higher for Hire was not such that a person could accidentally drive up to the front. In fact, it rather appeared as though the limousine was waiting for her. Rebecca bit her lip and checked her watch. Thanks to the bank's stubbornness, she was twenty minutes late to work. She hoped that whoever it was would forgive her. It would be absolutely terrible to lose a client today.

Rebecca paid the driver and both she and Molly walked up to the limousine. As they did so, the front door of the limousine opened and a tall, stately, uniformed leopard exited. He opened the back door, and out came another leopard, this one rather short and portly, carrying a briefcase. The chauffeur then closed both doors and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

The portly leopard adjusted his monocle. "Are you Rebecca Cunningham, the owner of this business?" he inquired.

"I am," Rebecca replied. "And this is my daughter Molly. Say hello, Molly."

The chauffeur snorted. "We have been waiting in this sun for over twenty minutes. We are here for business, not to engage in idle chitchat with some rugrat."

"Stewart!" the other leopard said sharply. "Know your place and hold your tongue." He then apologized to Rebecca and Molly. "Stewart is not a bad man. He is new, however, and so does not know his place. He will learn."

Rebecca smiled coolly. She didn't quite like this man's talk of knowing one's place. As a female business owner, she had heard it several times herself. Still, she reasoned, this man was a possible client, and one often had to swallow one's pride for the sake of business.

"Oh, it's ok," she laughed. "I'm sorry I was late. I had business to take care of, and it took longer than I expected. But please—" Rebecca took out a key and unlocked the building's door. "Would you like to come inside? We can discuss things there."

"Wait here," the man ordered, and followed Rebecca and Molly into the building.

"Forgive me for dispensing with pleasantries and getting right down to it. My name is Conrad Voleur. I am the Lord High Minister of Welthonia." He paused, giving his words enough time to sink in, and continued, "You may have heard that Our Lady, the Princess Mora Dolores, is on a diplomatic mission to Cape Suzette. That, however, is not the real reason that she is here."

Conrad cleared his throat. "Surely you have heard of the King's Cricket? Legend says that a young boy followed an unusually colored cricket and discovered an amazing hunk of gold and silver, blended into the shape of a cricket. He took it, rallied up an army, defeated the enemies that were attacking the kingdom, and was crowned king himself."

Rebecca felt that she was getting the abridged version of the tale.

Conrad patted his briefcase. "I have here the actual Cricket that the boy discovered. Welthonia is a small, poor country, and the oracles have told Our Lady that she must share the wonders of the Cricket with other lands. The gods are angry at Welthonia's selfishness."

"That is a _fascinating_ story, Mr. --Voleur, is it? And think of it, Molly. The princess has chosen our hometown of Cape Suzette to—"

"No," Conrad interrupted curtly. "I—I mean, _she_, hasn't. I told you that this is a business transaction, and I do not want you to sell tickets to a museum showing. I want you to deliver the Cricket to greatest museum in the entire world, the Museum of Ancient History in Aridia."

"Did you say Aridia?" Rebecca asked, suddenly remembering that Baloo was probably still partying in Aridia. She silently cursed both Diana Lyden for giving Baloo permission to delay his return, and herself for not insisting that Baloo return immediately. Not that it would have done any good.

"Is anything the matter, Miss Cunningham? Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, of course not, Mr. Voleur. But why Higher for Hire? We're just a small company. "

"A small company with a reputation for _honesty_, Miss Cunningham. Certain larger companies are so concerned with profit making that they become thieves. Our Lady does not wish to have anything to do with that sort of company. And there's another reason. Nobody would suspect the Princess of Welthonia of using such a small, local company to ship a national treasure. It would be safe from pirates and other unsavory elements."

"Well…" Rebecca drew out the word. Shipping a national treasure seemed so romantic and exciting. And wasn't that what first attracted her to the air shipping business? But how could she ship anything without a pilot?

"Think of what a boost Higher for Hire's reputation will get," Conrad continued suavely. "I guarantee you, in a few days' time, everybody will be talking about Higher for Hire, that small, local company that _did it_. But if you're not willing, I'm sure there are other small, local companies—"

"No, there's not!" Rebecca interrupted. "Mr. Voleur, I'd love to deliver the package for you. But…could I have a few hours for my pilot to return from his previous delivery?"

"But of course, Miss Cunningham. Will he be back by noon this afternoon?"

"Y-yes. I promise, Higher for Hire will have a pilot and a plane ready to deliver the Cricket to Aridia."

"Then it's time to discuss payment, Miss Cunningham. Unfortunately, we do not, at the moment, have any Usland dollars. If you'll allow us, we'll convert our money to dollars and hand you the payment at noon, in cash."

"Thank you, Mr. Voleur. You won't regret choosing us."

Conrad smiled and adjusted his monocle. "Of course not." He stood up, took his briefcase, and left.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Molly spoke. "What if Baloo doesn't come back in time?"

Rebecca pulled a phone book out of her desk drawer and opened it. "Then I'll just have to hire another pilot."

Molly stomped her foot. "No, Mommy! Baloo's your pilot! I don't want you to hire another pilot."

"It'd just be for today, Molly." Rebecca bit her lip and began flipping through the phone book. Surely there was a pilot who had his own plane and would be willing to work on such a short notice. She sighed loudly and the phone rang.

"Good Morning, Higher for—" Rebecca's eyes widened, and she shouted, "BALOO! Just where are you, Mister?!"

* * *

It was midnight by the time Baloo and Don Karnage stepped into Aridia proper. The thin, translucent moon hung in a light sliver high above. Baloo shivered, his breath twisting in a fog around his nose and mouth. The pain in his chest had subsided to a dull ache—or perhaps he was simply used to it.

Baloo had not expected it to take so long to cross the dunes to Aridia. Several times, he considered stopping to catch his breath, but he could not allow himself that luxury. He could not abandon Kit. The large gray bear had almost wept for joy when the ground had turned from sandy to rocky, with sagebrush and other desert plants. One especially caught his eye—a low growing cactus, with large, broad pale purple blooms blossoming in the middle of the night.

"Beckers'd probably wonder how much that's worth," murmured Baloo, and a small smile came to his lips. Rebecca was probably furious at him for being so late.

"Worth? Is she especially estupido? It is a flower. It is worth nothing," Don Karnage sneered. He preferred things like gold and jewels—things with a tangible value.

"Stop followin' me around, Karny," Baloo growled, without turning around.

"I am not following you, Baloo," Karnage countered. "I am merely walking towards Aridia."

Baloo said nothing, and the rest of the walk to Aridia passed quietly. The city was almost completely dark when they entered, and Baloo sighed as he looked around. He was about to knock on a random door, when a warm, yellow light flickered up a street a bit. The wolf and the bear both walked towards the light, which revealed itself to be a lamp placed in the window of an inn. Baloo opened the door and entered.

"Help!" he cried, running towards an old, grizzled bulldog with a thick droopy mustache, who stood behind a bar. The man had been straightening glasses in the almost empty room. When he saw Baloo, he turned around to face the bear.

"It's an emergency," Baloo continued without pausing for a single breath. "I need ta use yer phone ta call Cape Suzette!"

The man grunted, gesturing with his shoulder to a pay phone on the wall. He then paused and frowned, his thick bushy brows coming down low over his eyes. "You all right there?"

"Please. I need ta use yer phone. I don't have any money on me. I'm beggin' ya. I'll make it up to ya, I promise."

The man nodded, reached under the counter, and pulled out a phone. "There. Normally, I don't let people use this phone for calls, but you look pretty bad there. Once you're done that call, I hope you'll tell me just what happened to you."

Baloo desperately dialed Cape Suzette. He very nearly dialed the wrong number twice, and so had to force himself to slow down. Rebecca had evidently been sitting right by the phone, for she picked up on the first ring and said in a perky voice, "Good morning, Higher for—"

"Beckers, it's me, Baloo. I've got bad—"

"BALOO!" Rebecca yelled angrily. "Just where are you, Mister?!"

"I'm in Aridia—" Baloo began.

"Well, get back here this instant! You've got another delivery to make and I can't have you wasting your time partying around."

"I've got bad news. I was attacked by pirates and there was a whirlwind and now Kit's gone!"

There was a pause of several seconds. When she finally spoke, Rebecca's voice was flat. "You were attacked by pirates? _Pirates, _Baloo? Can't you give a better excuse than that this time?"

"But it's true, Beckers!"

"I'm sure it is. And somebody named Kit is gone? Honestly, Baloo, I don't care about your dancing girls."

Baloo's heart fell into his stomach, and he clutched the telephone receiver. Beads of cold sweat popped up across his body. This conversation was beginning to sound dreadfully familiar.

"Kit's not a dancin' girl, Becky," he whispered. "Ya know, Kit Cloudkicker. He's my navigator."

Rebecca burst out laughing. "Baloo, you don't _have_ a navigator. We can't afford to add a navigator to the payroll. Though maybe we should. Maybe then you wouldn't make such stupid excuses every time you're late. Pirates and a whirlwind?! Now, I want you back here in three and a half hours, or say goodbye to the Sea Duck!"

Rebecca continued yelling, but Baloo didn't hear her. He whispered quietly, "I don't know when I'll be home, Rebecca," and hung up the phone. As he did so, he realized that there was nothing Rebecca could have done for Kit. But she would have wanted to know, since she was like a mother to Kit.

Now, however, Rebecca Cunningham apparently did not remember that Kit Cloudkicker even existed. First Karnage, and now Rebecca. What was wrong? Before he arrived in Aridia, he had been convinced that Karnage was feigning his ignorance of Kit. Not only that, but Baloo _knew_ that Karnage had kidnapped Kit and was merely taunting Baloo by _pretending_ he didn't know Kit. But that simple, two minute conversation with his boss changed everything. Rebecca, too, had forgotten Kit.

"Why can't anybody else remember Kit?" he whispered despondently.

A blonde-haired lioness, sitting at a low, oaken table near the bar, smirked. "That's the wrong question to ask, Baloo. The correct question is, why are you the only one that remembers Kit?" She looked up, and her green-yellow eyes flashed. Immediately, Baloo recognized her, and knew that Kit was right. This person was both Diana and Cira. He also knew that Diana and Cira were both lies. This person had neither Diana's warm maturity, nor Cira's sweet innocence. Her eyes were cold and hard, and Baloo felt a sick loathing welling up inside him. If she hadn't insisted on hiring them, Kit would be perfectly fine.

"Oh yes," the lioness smiled pleasantly and continued as though she had read Baloo's mind. "It is entirely my fault that Kit is gone. But you have a chance to rescue him." Her voice lowered, and she looked off into the distance. "I hope you'll take that chance."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Baloo demanded.

The lioness snorted. "I would prefer not to say this twice. So—" Smiling, she leaned back and beckoned to Don Karnage, who stood in the shadows. "Come over here. And don't worry about anybody recognizing you and calling the police. I know the innkeeper. As long as nothing too terrible happens in the inn, he doesn't care about what your career or hobbies might be. Besides, you're already involved."

His curiosity piqued, the pirate sat down next to the lioness. Without a word, she took out a thin silver vial and removed the stopper. She then poured a thick, bright red liquid into her palm. Karnage wrinkled his nose. That smell was familiar. He moved away from the lioness, wondering why she would coat her own palm with blood.

Before anybody had time to even notice what was happening, much less react, the lioness revealed a thin dagger and quickly slashed Karnage's palm. He screamed, mostly in fury with a small bit of pain, and jumped up. "Are you crazy?! How dare you attack my wonderful self?!"

The lioness grasped Karnage's injured hand with her own bloodied one. She squeezed and whispered, "Remember." Almost immediately, Baloo noticed a chance in Karnage's demeanor. His eyes widened, his face paled, and his breathing became labored. Karnage's lips struggled to form words.

The lioness removed her hand and smiled, satisfied. "I take it you've remembered now?"

Still shocked, Karnage managed to whisper, in a weak voice, "Kit…my boy. How could I have forgotten my boy?"

The lioness took out a jar of water and washed the blood off her hand. "The reason you forgot Kit," she said, bandaging Karnage's hand, "is simply because there was no reason for you to remember.

"My name is Wurdyne. As you probably know, I have called myself both Diana and Cira Lyden. My job, as you might call it, is a kidnapper."

Baloo's hands balled into fists and he stood up. "Why you…" he growled, but was quickly cut short by a sharp glare from Wurdyne. "Do you want to save Kit or not? Let me speak."

Baloo sat down, and Wurdyne continued. "As I have said, my job is kidnapper. I take people from _here_ and send them to _there_. Since there does not exist here, once a person enters there, they are completely forgotten about here. To everybody but the two of you, Kit Cloudkicker does not exist. He has never existed. You remember him because his blood mixed with your own. I expected to have to cut you as well. Fortunately, I didn't have to. Remember the paper cut on your hand? That allowed Kit's blood to get into your system. Not much, but it was enough."

"Is Kit alive?" Baloo hardly dared breathe the words.

"There would be little point in taking him if he was already dead. Yes, he's quite alive and well. However, Kit will be killed unless you rescue him."

"Ha!" Karnage scoffed. "Why are you wasting my timing telling me this?"

Wurdyne ignored Karnage. "Why do you think nobody should remember Kit? It would be too painful for you if you had the memories of the missing boy. But I am sick of this life. I am sick of kidnapping innocent people. I made a decision. The next victim would be somebody that I could have rescued. If the victim escapes before he is killed, then it will end. There will be no more victims. I cannot rescue Kit on my own. You must do it. I can lead you to him."

Wurdyne exhaled, and folded her hands in her lap. "That is all. I hope both of you will help me."

"I'll do it," Baloo said immediately. He still didn't trust Wurdyne one bit. There was something about her story that seemed off. And why did she want Karnage with them? However, she was the only one who knew about Kit. He felt he had no choice but to follow her.

Baloo looked at Karnage, knowing that Karnage was utterly and purely self-centered. He had not hesitated one bit in attempting to murder Kit, and so would laugh at the mere thought of rescuing him. Instead Baloo was surprised to see a thoughtful, serious expression on Karnage's face.

"Yes," answered Karnage uncharacteristically.

"Fine. We'll be going through the desert a bit to get there. I'll let you two have an hour to gather provisions. We'll meet back here in one hour. If anybody does not return, I'll assume that he changed his mind. I won't go on my own." With that, Wurdyne left the building. Karnage, after looking down at his wrinkled and torn clothing, left as well.

Baloo's shoulders and slumped and he sighed. How was he supposed to get provisions for the desert? Karnage had stolen all his money and besides, what shops were open this late at night? His fingers traced the whorls on the oaken bar.

"You need provisions?" the bulldog's gruff voice broke into his reverie. "If'n your willing to work here, I might be able to help you out. Now, don't say anything. I know you're injured, so I'm not expecting any heavy work. However, I've decided to start selling our house wine. It's the best," he said proudly.

"My wife—we own the inn together—my wife works the bar during the day. However, at night she's been staying up late pasting the labels on our wine bottles. If you'll take over for her, I'll make sure you get what you need."

Baloo looked to a corner where a female bulldog sat tirelessly pasting labels to empty wine bottles.

"Fine," Baloo said unenthusiastically. He didn't know if the innkeeper was telling the truth. He also knew that he had no choice. He needed provisions to rescue Kit. He had no idea where to find Wurdyne so he could ask her for help, and he knew Karnage wouldn't return a cent he had stolen. Baloo would just have to trust that the innkeeper would keep his end of the deal.

* * *

Kit lay on his mat and listened to the voices coming from outside his room. He recognized one of the voices as Benete's, but heard nothing from the other one. Benete's voice was clear and distinct, and Kit found no difficulty in understanding her.

"Oh, good afternoon, Lady Shelorna. It is a fine day. Really? Well, I suppose you've got a point about that," Benete chuckled. Her laughter was false-sounding, and Kit frowned. He pulled himself onto his elbows and struggled to hear more of the conversation. This time he heard Benete's partner's voice, and it was high-pitched and youthful sounding. However, he still could not make out any words.

"You want to WHAT?" Benete's voice raised itself to a horrified shriek. "Was this _her_ idea?... Hmmph! I don't believe you…I know she's your sister, but you shouldn't listen to her. She's _filth—"_

"I told you, this was _my_ idea!" the other person yelled. Her voice lowered again, and Kit could not longer hear her side of the conversation.

"Well, yes, that's true," Benete said, sounding taken aback. "I know I'm supposed to do what you say during this time of _you know_—" Benete's voice sounded distinctly clearer when she said 'you know', as though she had turned her head to face Kit's direction "—But I strongly urge you to reconsider…All right. But I swear to you—" and here Benete's voice lowered so that Kit could not hear her words.

"Little Master!" Benete called jovially. "You have a visitor!" Benete walked into the room, followed by a young female lioness, skinny and awkward looking, with light brown hair tied in two shoulder-length braids. She gave Kit a nervous smile, chewing on her lower lip.

Kit wondered if he should know her. His mind felt rather fuzzy, and his mouth tasted slightly metallic. Benete had told him that he had been quite ill, and his fever had just broken earlier that day. He remembered Wurdyne coming in to administer some sort of topical solution. He also remembered yelling some sort of delirious nonsense at her during a fever dream. Try as he might, however, he could not remember what it was.

Oh, well. Kit shook his head and told himself that it didn't matter.

"Well then!" Benete clapped her hands together. "I'll leave you two alone for now. If you need me, you know where I'll be. Try not to keep him up too long. You know what he's been through."

After Benete had left, Kit was the first one to speak. "My name's Kit Cloudkicker."

"My name's Shelorna," the girl offered. "You've got a very nice name, Kit. Where did it come from?" Immediately, Shelorna gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. There was an awful, awkward stillness in the air as Kit stared at her.

"I don't know," he finally said. "All I know is that I just got over a terrible fever. I can't remember what happened before my dream."

"Oh," Shelorna sighed, placing her hand over her heart. "That's a relief. I mean—it's a relief that you're healthy now. Not that you've lost your memory. So—" Shelorna began nervously playing with her left braid "—what was the dream about?"

"I don't know." At that moment, certain knowledge came into Kit's mind. It was completely out of the blue, yet he knew, without a doubt, that it was perfectly true. "It was very important. Once I remember the dream, I'll remember who I am."

"Noyouwon't," Shelorna contradicted. Her face had a green, nauseous pallor to it, and the next words she said were spoken a bit slower than the previous, but with intense vehemence. "It was a fever dream. Fever dreams mean _nothing_. There's no point in even trying to remember it, so don't."

The air was heavy and awkward. Kit wondered what had brought on that rant. Was Shelorna always that emotional? Perhaps it would be best if they left that small, cramped room and got some fresh air. "Hey, let's go outside," Kit decided.

"Outside? It's kind of…late, right?" Shelorna gave a short, nervous giggle. "Wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

Kit ran his finger around the neck of his thick sweater. "It's kind of stuffy in here," he offered, standing up. Shelorna chewed on her lower lip as Kit opened the door and stepped outside.

"Oh, no," he whispered in abject horror as he saw, hanging fairly low over the town, a thick dense black cloud of smoke pillowing forth from a massive volcano that seemed to be situated not five hundred feet from where he stood. What little light made its way through the smoke had an unhallowed yellow cast to it. "We have to get out of here."

Shelorna frowned. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Come on, Shelorna. Gather your stuff together and let's scoot."

"No, Kit, I told you. I'm not leaving."

"Oh, be sensible, will you?"

Shelorna stomped her foot. "I can't!" she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "This is my home."

"Ah, but the volcano is gonna fricassee the city any sec—" Kit paused. This conversation. It was familiar. It was part of his dream. But it wasn't a volcano in his dream. It was something—_someone?_—else. What else had happened in his dream? What decision had he made then? What decision could he have made then? Who was he in that dream?

Regardless of who his dream self had been, his real self could not simply abandon Shelorna. He sighed, and returned indoors. "I'll stay. But we have to find a way to stop that volcano from erupting, or we'll all die."

"It won't erupt," Shelorna said confidently. "It's never once erupted."

"Well, it's past time!" Kit yelled. "That thing's due to erupt any minute now! Please, you know this place better than I do. You have to help me find some way to prevent the volcano's eruption."

"All right," Shelorna finally said, "We'll find a way to prevent the volcano from erupting."

* * *

"Take off your shirt," the innkeeper said in a clipped, no nonsense voice. Startled, Baloo very nearly dropped the glue-soaked brush he was holding. He looked up to see the innkeeper standing next to him with a roll of bandages.

"Take off your shirt," the innkeeper repeated and began unrolling the bandages. "Friend, you're injured, right?"

"Yeah, but…" Baloo lay down his brush, and touched his forehead gingerly. He would have thought that _that_ injury would have been most noticeable. His eyes chanced upon the few remaining bottles that he had not carefully glued labels upon. Noticing that, the innkeeper shrugged. "You've done plenty o' work. About half as much as my wife would, but pretty good, considerin'."

"I'll consider you," Baloo growled. He had carefully labeled over a hundred bottles. And it hadn't been easy. The glue, oxymoronically, had been rather slippery. Bits of it dotted the counter in front of him.

"Friend, are you going to take off your shirt or not? I wouldn't advise you going back to the desert without having had some first aid, first."

"First aid?"

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows. "Of course. I did promise you provisions, right? I'd never hear the end of it from my wife if I just gave you a water bottle and some dried raisins. Now, let me bandage you up."

Wincing, Baloo took off his shirt and the innkeeper wrapped the bandages around him. "There. That should do it. Try not to move around too much. And make sure you see my son as soon as possible." He let his voice drop off, and Baloo rose to the bait.

"Yer son?"

"Yeah. He's a doctor." The innkeeper's chest swelled with pride as he said that. "But he isn't like most doctors. He doesn't just think the new-fangled cures are the best. He respects tradition. Taught me an old pain cure. Nobody uses it anymore, 'cause they like the shiny white pills. But you put this salve on, and your pain'll vanish like that. See this?" The innkeeper held out a green glass bottle filled with some sort of oil. "This stuff comes from the Queen's Moonflower. It's called that because it only blooms at night. Now, you better be careful touching that with your bare hand, 'cause it'll give you a rash something fierce. Now there's a rare type of beetle that lives near the Queen's Moonflower. You crush 'em up into a paste and add the oil of the Queen's Moonflower, and you'll get the best pain-killing salve in the world." The innkeeper demonstrated his words and rubbed the paste on Baloo's forehead. Immediately, the pain vanished.

"Unfortunately," the innkeeper continued, "it only works on outer injuries. Won't soak through enough to affect the bones. My son's trying to figure out a way to increase the strength of it. He loves helping people out. Good boy, my son. You got a son, friend?"

"Yeah," Baloo said immediately. "Name's Kit. Best damn kid in the entire world." He clenched his hands into fists, and growled. "I won't let anything happen ta him. I'll die before I let anybody touch another hair on his head."

"He's the reason you're going back into the desert, right?" the innkeeper said cognizantly. "And your friend, too?"

"Friend?"

"That wolf fellow you were with. Looked familiar." He added that last part almost as an afterthought.

Baloo slammed his fist into the counter and shouted, "That low down, no good, dirty, rotten, murderin' crook is _not_ my friend!"

"You have wounded me deeply, Baloo. After all we have been through together, you say that we are not friends."

"I'll just gather together the rest of your supplies," said the innkeeper, excusing himself. Baloo glared at Karnage as the pirate walked towards him. He had clearly washed and changed his clothes and was now wearing a bright red shirt and brown leather pants. His boots had been shined, he wore black gloves, and a scimitar was held at his waist. The entire outfit gave him the impression of being a seventeenth century pirate of the high seas. On anybody else, it would have looked fairly ridiculous. On Karnage, however…

It still looked ridiculous, Baloo decided. It was also completely impractical for the desert. Had Karnage really spent the entire time making himself look good? What a stupid question. He was _Don Karnage_. What else would he do? "Nice outfit," Baloo muttered, sarcastically. "Where'd you get it?"

"I stole it," Karnage said incredulously, as though Baloo were a very stupid child. "Where else would I get it? It is rather dashing, yes-no?"

"It fits you," Baloo muttered darkly.

"Grazie. I must admit, I do make an excellent hero type person, yes-no?"

"Why are you doin' this?" Baloo blurted out. "Are you expectin' to find some kinda treasure?"

"Perhaps," Karnage replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "I would not be obverse to lining my pockets, as it were. But I am here for the same reason that you are. I wish to save the boy."

Baloo laughed. That was rich. "I didn't know you were a comedian, Karnage. You should try Comedy Night at Louie's."

"Oh, I am most serious, Baloo," Karnage said haughtily. "Why should I not care about what's best for the boy?"

_Because you only care about yourself,_ thought Baloo.

"What makes you think you know what's good for Kit?"

"Why, did he not live with me for longer than he has even known you, Baloo?"

"And it was the worst time of his life!"

Karnage smirked. "Oh? Did the boy tell you that?"

"No," Baloo grudgingly admitted.

"Oh, I see. He has not told you so, yet you still assume that his time my glorious self was absolutely horrible. I cannot believe you hate me _that_ much."

"I _know_ his time with you was the worst time of his life. It has to be. You tried to kill him! You threw him off the Iron Vulture!"

"He betrayed me first," Karnage said flippantly. "I was deeply hurt by his actions, Baloo. But I am not the type of man to hold a grudge. So Kit has not told you anything about his early life?"

"Not yet. He'll tell me when he's ready."

Karnage chortled. "Perhaps the boy does not trust you, Baloo."

"He has a name, Karnage! His name is Kit Cloudkicker! Don't you forget it!"

Karnage's smirk increased until it was a positively malevolent grin. "How could I forget? _I_ am the one who gave him that name."

_TO BE CONTINUED…_


End file.
